What A Strange Dream
by J.E.McCormickGal
Summary: Pip wakes up to see something – or someone – in his bedroom. Dip, rated T for yaoi.


**What a Strange Dream**

**Description:**_ Pip wakes up to see something – or someone – in his bedroom._

Pip sat up slowly, rubbing his arm in pain. This was the third time he'd rolled onto his side and woken himself up. He pulled up the sleeve of his pyjama top, and squinted to try and see the wound in the midnight gloom.

In the top of his vision, from the dark frame of his bedroom door, Pip saw a flash of red. When he looked up, there was nothing there. Brushing a strand of short blonde hair from his face and rubbing his eyes, he looked again. This time, two small dots of red were hovering there, flickering from side to side, disappearing for a second and reappearing. Pip froze with fear, staring right back at the red dots, which he decided were eyes from the way they were looking at him, studying him.

He blinked, and let out a small squeak when the eyes appeared closer. Through the heavy blanket of black, he could just about make out an even darker silhouette. It appeared to be a human form, though what could move quite that fast and have glowing red eyes could obviously not be human. Pip pulled the blankets up closer to him, letting out another scared whimper. Though he tried desperately not to blink, eventually he could not stop himself.

The Brit let out half a terrified scream when a cold hand touched his hurt arm, before another was clamped over his mouth. He felt hot tears run down his face, as he struggled slightly against the cold, painful grip the stranger had on him.

"Shush. I don't want to have to hurt you." a quiet, threatening voice floated out of the darkness.

Pip tried to tell the figure, who he guessed was also male, that it already was hurting him. Because of the hand over his mouth however, the words came out muffled and indistinguishable. Pip struggled again, which only earned him a tighter grip on his arm and face. He winced when sharp nails dug into his cheek, and he made a small protesting noise in the back of his throat.

"Promise to be quiet?" the voice came again. Pip nodded his head eagerly. The hand released slowly, and Pip breathed in, biting his bottom lip and once again trying to pry his arm out of the grip the stranger had on him.

"You're hurting my arm." He whispered. Red met blue as Pip dared to raise his eyes to look at the strange presence in his room. The hold did not loosen, and the timid blonde did not have enough courage to ask again; he was getting the feeling this person, if it was a person, could be dangerous.

"You look scared."

"Of course I'm scared. Two floating red eyes appeared in my doorway and before I knew it I had two hands holding me still and someone threatening me. I think I am entitled to be scared." Pip's voice was rising slightly, and he felt a finger pressed to his lips.

"Quiet. If you could stop feeling scared, it's kind of not a good thing to be around me unless you want your soul drained of happiness for at least a week. As much as I love fear, I don't particularly want to feed off of yours."

Pip was confused by this statement, and this may have slightly overridden his fear, but it was still there.

"Could I please see you? I-I don't like that its dark and I can't see you." He managed to stammer out.

A small ball of fire suddenly appeared near his face, and he had to bite his lip to prevent himself from yelling in surprise. From the flickering light now hovering above a hand belonging to the stranger, Pip could make out his face – pale, with black bangs swept across to one side and a pair of blood red eyes staring out from beneath them. Pip looked from the face, to his arm, and saw a small blotch of blood soaking through his pyjamas.

"M-my arm..." he stammered. The boy looked over, his expression never changing, then back to Pip.

"What happened?"

"I-I fell into something..."

"That's a lie."

Surprised by the firm tone in which the statement was said, Pip quirked a brow.

"How do you know that?"

"I saw Cartman push you into that nail purposely. He's still the same mean bastard he was seven years ago. You don't get treated any better, do you Pip?" the dark-haired boy looked deep into Pip's eyes. Pip winced, whether in pain, or defeat, or both, the boy could not tell.

"How do you know me? How do you know Eric? Who are you?" Pip whispered shakily, beginning to cry. He was even more scared now.

"We met 7 years ago, 4th grade, I was in school for just one day and then I disappeared. You were the only person to talk to me like I was a person with feelings – which admittedly, 90% of the time, I'm not – and I just pushed you away and set you on fire." The boy replied. Pip's eyes widened suddenly in recognition.

"Y-you're..."

"Damien, Antichrist, son of Satan." The boy opposite nodded.

Pip smiled, his eyes visibly brightening, all fear forgotten.

"My Damien! Your voice has changed. It used to be so high and squeaky..." Pip stopped suddenly, his face falling. "Why are you here? Did I do something? Am I dead, oh dear..."

Pip was silenced again by a hand, and his arm was released. He could feel the hand was wet, and he whimpered slightly when he instinctively licked the moisture form his lips, realising it was blood.

"Terribly sorry Damien, but I must go stop my arm bleeding..." Pip shot up from the bed, hurrying to the bathroom and searching through the cupboards for some sort of bandage or plaster.

When he turned, Damien was stood at the door, a finger raised to his mouth. His tongue flickered out, cleaning the blood from it. The blonde went green, but Damien didn't notice him looking. His face was thoughtful as he stared at his blood-covered hand, until he finally noticed Pip staring at him.

"Oops. Couldn't help myself. As much as I may be half human, I am also half demon and blood is unfortunately appealing to me. So clean your arm up before I end up attacking you." Damien said calmly, before grabbing some toilet paper and walking back out to Pip's bedroom.

Pip turned back to face the mirror. He looked a sight – his hair was dishevelled, he was paler than usual, and his brow was glistening with sweat. He felt extremely ill. Maybe he _was_ dying. He shook this off, and pulled the top of his pyjamas off, sticking a plaster over the small puncture wound on his arm, surrounded by a large bruise and about to be joined by another, hand shaped one. Pip splashed his face with cold water, and trudged wearily back into his bedroom.

He had just wondered over to his dresser draws, to get a new top out of it for the night, when he suddenly became aware of a pair of eyes resting on his back. '_Damien..._' he thought, after completely forgetting the boy had appeared in his room. And he had just wondered into his room, topless, in front of him.

Pip quickly pulled something over his bare chest, blushing slightly from embarrassment. He was feeling weak, tired and sick, and all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. The memory from his past, however, was preventing him from doing that.

"Damien... I cannot talk right now. I'm afraid I'm feeling rather unwell..."

With that, Pip collapsed onto his bed.

_Pip sat on the snowy kerb, holding a hand to the side of his face where a gritty snowball had been thrown at him. He sighed, praying to God that, if it wasn't too much trouble, could he have his best friend back please? Sure, Damien had only been at school for one day, and yes, the boy had set him on fire and used him as a firework, but he was still the closest to a friend Pip had ever gotten._

_The British boy missed his brief encounter with friendship. It had been fleeting, but for just five hours, he had felt happy. He had someone to talk to who didn't call him names, who didn't spit on him and hurt him. Sure it had ended in pain on his behalf and a searing disappointment, but he'd been happy for a few hours. Instead of cursing God for giving him that happiness then cruelly ripping it away, he thanked him that he had even managed any happiness at all. _

_Being a lonely outcast who was hated by everyone had some effect on Pip's emotions. He loved; he adored and clung to whoever gave him any attention. When Estella, in England when he was just seven, had shown his even disdainful attention, he fell in love with her. He did everything and anything for his adoptive parents without question, because they loved him and cared for him when he thought no-one else would._

_And now he yearned after Damien. He had some awareness of this – and so did not entirely trust his feelings, pushing them away and blaming them on his desperate nature. He tried to forget Damien completely, though it did not always work, and on occasion he dreamed of the dark haired boy returning, just for him._

"Pip. Pip? Pip!" Damien shook the small boy by the shoulders, trying to rouse the boy from his fever induced unconsciousness.

"Damien..." Pip blinked his eyes open, looked at Damien, then gave a small laugh. "Oh, I'm dreaming again. Wake up Pip old chap, you're dreaming."

Damien looked at him quizzically. He put a hand to the Pip's forehead; it was burning up.

"He won't ever come back for you. You aren't important to him. You aren't important to anyone." Pip continued to mutter to himself. "You don't love him. He just gave you attention. It's fake Pip. Besides, he wouldn't love you. He'd hate you. You _can't_ love him."

The Antichrist was becoming worried about the blonde lying next to him.

"Pip, wake up. You're delusional. Maybe you caught something from that nail..."

Damien was cut off by a pair of lips covering his own. He opened his mouth to protest, but to no use. Pip kissed him harder, before falling back, giggling.

"Thank God I'm dreaming. I'd be barbequed for that." He chuckled to himself. Damien was still in shock. He was snapped out of it by Pip's coughing. The blonde was looking greener by the second. The noirette lifted the boy up and carried him into the bathroom, laying him on the cool tiles and searching through the cupboards for some sort of medicine.

"This dream is getting worse. I feel sick." Pip muttered, before lurching up and retching into the toilet bowl. Damien put down the bottle of medicine he'd found to hold Pip's hair back. When the Brit had finished being sick, he mopped his forehead and mouth.

"Oh look, Damien's still here." Pip looked up at him, and flopped back down to the ground. Damien waited a while until Pip drifted back into consciousness again, before propping him up and encouraging him to swallow the sticky liquid.

Pip fell asleep soon after that, and Damien carried him back to his bed, tucking him into the sheets and sitting beside him, resting an ice cold hand on his forehead to regulate his temperature. He sat like this for the most of the night, before lying down next to Pip and falling asleep in the early hours of the morning.

When Pip blinked his eyes awake, he still felt horrible, but better than before.

"What a strange dream..." he muttered, before realising there was something cold on his forehead, and a weight beside him. Looking over he saw Damien, lying on his side. One hand rested on his forehead, the other hugging his own torso.

"Damien! What... why are you here?" he yelped, effectively wakening the sleeping demon boy.

"You're awake Pip. Lie down, you were ill last night, you should rest."Damien said coolly, pushing Pip's shoulders back until he was lying down again.

"What happened?" Pip asked quietly.

"You were ill, and delusional. You were talking to yourself and thought you were dreaming. Then you did fall asleep." Damien rolled through.

Pip's eyes widened slightly in horror and realisation. _'I wasn't dreaming...'_

"Bollocks." He whispered, even quieter. "I'm sorry Damien, like you said, I was delusional..."

"Why can't you love me?" Damien suddenly turned around. His eyes had died down to a calm black, but they still pierced right through Pip. The boy gawked at the unexpected question, taking time to register it.

"...Excuse me?" he spluttered eventually, sitting up slowly.

"Why _can't_ you love me? Is it too bad? Too unacceptable? What stops you?" the Antichrist repeated.

"Wha... It's nothing to do with you! It's me. I mean... I only love you because you showed me attention. Because you were kinder to me than anyone else ever was. Don't I? It's fake, isn't it? Is that real love, or..." Pip trailed off. He'd never really thought of the question in depth. His hands circled, trying to show he was drawing a blank.

"I don't know. I don't feel... love quite the same as you. I'm a demon. A devil. Satan's son. Only half of me is human. That is the half that makes me feel... remorse, guilt, rejection... all those strange feelings. I mean... Is missing something human?" Damien counteracted question with question.

Both of them were quiet, considering it all. Damien felt Pip's small, warm hand close over his own cold one. He looked up, and met Pip's shining blue eyes.

"I love you Damien." He said.

"How can you be sure?"

"I... I can feel it. In my heart... or somewhere near there." Pip said, pointing to his chest.

"I don't know if I have one of those." Damien grimaced. Pip placed his hand over Damien's chest.

"You do. I can tell. Looking in your eyes, I can tell you have a heart, other than this one keeping you alive." The blonde boy looked down at his hand, then back up to the eyes of his secret love.

"I- I think I love you too." Damien searched with his eyes, as though looking for something.

"I love you." He said simply, his voice full of realisation. Pip smiled slightly up at him, before they both leaned in to kiss each other. Pip's hand cupped Damien's face, and Damien held the smaller boy close by the shoulders.

"Pip! Wake up!" a woman's voice shouted from outside. Both boys jumped.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow. I'm coming back, so ya know." Damien whispered. He stood up, crossed the room, then disappeared in a column of fire.

Pip smiled to himself. It was going to be a good week, he could feel it.

_A/N: Words 2,515_

_Woah that was long._

_And damn! I had the first bit (like, the first 5 paragraphs) planned in my head, and the rest... kinda... flowed. At 11:30pm. Heck it might not make sense. I don't honestly know why I made Pip ill, because I wanted to make Damien react? Maybe a different way of Pip confessing to Damien?_

_Talking of Damien; I think he was a little OOC, but really he needs to be for the story. I used his 'half human' heritage to explain it. Yeah, I decided Damien is part human. Else he wouldn't look it, right? And besides, he needs feelings. Whatever, my story, so suck it._

_Not much swearing. Because Pip is mild and Damien... doesn't like to swear like a sailor. Y'know, I always think of Damien as having a slight English accent (not old fashioned like Pip's, but y'know, English.) cause in the Omen films he grows up in London. Just realised, up until Damien reveals himself, I described him like the Volturi in Twilight. Red eyes, super fast, cold... eh._

_Yeeeaaaaah I'm rambling now. This idea came to me in art class, Miss said something about 'monster in the doorway' and I instantly got a picture in my head of a creepy looking Damien in Pip's bedroom. But I couldn't do that so... yeah. I wrote it instead ^^_

_Besides, how was I gonna explain it to my friends. I'm already using South Park more in my school work, so yeah. They already think I'm crazy and sad, having no life because I am so obsessed with South Park._

_Ah well. I gotta go, it's 01:30 in the morning and I'm hungry but I can't go down to get something to eat else my mom will kill me. _


End file.
